


the best of friends

by TreacleTeacups



Series: Drabbles n Oneshots [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Diadem Horcrux, Fourth Year, Horcrux Influence, M/M, Memory Tampering, Mind Reading, Pre-Slash, Set in fourth year, because, before the first task, in which Harry rubs a crown and tom comes out instead of a genie, you know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:41:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25643719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TreacleTeacups/pseuds/TreacleTeacups
Summary: There's less than twenty four hours left until Harry has to face adragon. He's too wired to sleep, too anxious to sit still. He goes looking for something to preoccupy his mind - and discovers a new friend.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Series: Drabbles n Oneshots [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1859008
Comments: 31
Kudos: 507
Collections: Harry Potter





	the best of friends

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt:  
> “Harry was tired; in less than 24 hrs he was expected to fight a dragon, his ‘friends’ were still in a very awkward position with him, the entire school was against him... AGAIN. Taking his wand and cape he got out of the tower, at some point he found himself in some empty hall he crossed the wall a few times thinking about everything about nothing, then a door appeared, he was confused but he entered, the room was full, something was calling him, a diadem caught his attention, he touched it”

Hermione and Harry worked into the late hours of the night, attempting to perfect Harry’s summoning spell before the First Task. It was now officially the day of the First Task, two in the morning, and Hermione gave a final satisfied smile at Harry’s pile of summoned trinkets, kissed him tiredly on the head, and went to bed.

Harry knew he should go to bed as well. In twelve hours, he was going to face a dragon. _A_ _dragon_. In all likelihood, this was Harry’s last night alive.

Fear churned in Harry’s stomach. Ever since the announcement of the fourth champion, Harry had been stuck on a pin wheel of emotions, propelling him forward and spinning helplessly. He’d been shocked, horrified, hurt, and then angry. So, so angry. Angry at Ron, angry at Malfoy, angry at Snape, angry at the whole situation. But more than anything, Harry was hurt. Hurt by Ron’s avoiding gaze, hurt by Malfoy’s buttons (the Creevey brother’s failed attempt at renaming the badges mocked him in the flickering candlelight, _Potter Really Stinks_ ), hurt by Rita Skeeter’s libellous article.

Now that it was less than a day to the First Task, the anger was suddenly swept out to sea and all that was left was throat blocking, spine tingling hurt. The quiet of the common room was suddenly unbearable, but going back to his dorm room where Ron lay with his back turned and sleeping fitfully was just as unbearable a thought.

Harry quietly collected his cloak and slunk out of the common room, his mind too wired and exhausted to even think. He let his feet guide him, taking him down the tower and then up again, climbing staircases and hopping absentmindedly over trick steps and turning left.

Harry found himself in a corridor he’d never been in before. He ventured down the corridor, mind wandering, and he passed a strange tapestry, feeling rather more like a discarded, lost thing than a person. Harry paused, realising he was lost, and turned back. Harry then frowned once he passed the tapestry - where was his sense of adventure? Harry turned back around, determined to get lost so that he might be able to distract himself. He jumped minutely when a door appeared on the wall across from of the tapestry he had just passed once more.

Harry had never been one to back down from a mystery and he crept through the door, reeling at the room behind. It was enormous, perhaps a storage room - or, rather, a lost and found for the school. It was filled with thousands of odds, ends, and assortments, lit only by the full moon beaming through the Gothic arched windows lining one wall. Harry wandered through the piles of items, amazed, and stopped when he felt a strange… Buzzing. That felt like an insufficient description, but he could only describe it as a tingling, humming, buzzing in his mind.

Harry followed the strange feeling to where it grew strongest.

To Harry’s surprise, amongst the fanged frisbees and skeletons and knicknacks, lay a beautiful tiara.

Harry felt his breath fog through his lips, the room suddenly cold, and he reached out to the tiara through his cloak.

Had Harry been raised in a wizarding family, he perhaps would have known better than to touch lost magical objects that caused buzzing in one’s mind. But, alas, he had not, so Harry Potter touched the foremost jewel on the crown with wonder in his heart.

The headpiece reacted instantly. Harry found himself encased in a strong aura, wrapped tightly as coils of serpentine magic bound him. Harry gaped, surprised. Between one blink and another, there was someone suddenly there an arm’s length away in the shadow of the aisle. Harry’s eyes strained to make out the features of the person in the dim light and, through the shimmer of his cloak, was only able to see a tall young man in Slytherin robes with dark features, face silhouetted in the darkness.

“Who are you?” The young man asked, tone pitched low and dangerous.

“M-me? Who are _you_?” Harry stammered back.

The young man’s head canted to the side and he reached forward through a beam of moonlight, skin ethereally pale, and he grasped the top of Harry’s cloak, pulling it off the small boy with a flourish.

“This is an impressive invisibility cloak,” the stranger commented, running the fabric through his fingers.

“It’s my dad’s, _was_ my dad’s,” Harry replied weakly.

Sharp grey eyes, only visible from the silhouetted shape of the young man due to their eerie glowing nature, pierced though Harry. The boy seemed to lose patience, for he leaned forward and whispered, “Legimens.”

The strangest thing occurred to Harry. He got an instant migraine, feeling dizzy with the abrupt onset. He suddenly saw himself as a child, in a cupboard under the stairs. Saw himself running through an underground chamber on the third floor, a man turning to ash under his very fingertips. He saw himself speaking to snakes, saw his scar aching something fierce. He witnessed himself stabbing a diary, ink splattering his face, saw himself going back in time and saving his godfather. Saw a name come out of a goblet, a dragon roaring in the darkness of the night.

When Harry came to, he was sitting on the floor, slumped, and the stranger was seated on the floor across from him. Harry was unsure how much time had passed, for he had just relived his entire life. Had it been minutes, hours, _days_?

“The tournament,” Harry gasped, attempting to get up. He swayed and fell down back onto his bum, head dizzy.

“It is still hours away,” the young man replied absentmindedly. He appeared deep in thought. “Tell me, do you really plan to fly around the dragon?”

“You - you saw that? You saw everything that I did?” Harry breathed, horrified. No one knew half the things the stranger had seen.

“I am a… Collector of knowledge, one could say,” the silhouette replied. “Your life is fascinating. Now tell me, do you plan to out-fly a dragon?”

“Yes,” Harry replied immediately, too surprised to be anything other than forthright.

“You may survive, but it is unlikely. Why do you not just enchant it?” The young man replied.

“Enchant… It,” Harry repeated slowly.

“Yes. Conjure fake gold and silver, duplicate it, fill the arena with it. The dragon will be enchanted, distracted, and you should be able to sneak by and take the egg. Gold is a dragon’s greatest weakness. It will be unable to think if it is distracted by immense wealth.”

“Won’t it just become more defensive?” Harry asked, distracted from his headache by this new possibility.

“Ah, perhaps. It will be able to tell the difference between false gold and real, though it will not be sure that it is all fake unless it inspects it all. The dragon will leave her nest. You must ensure to Disillusion yourself to get by her. But it will be fairly more simple than attempting to out-fly a dragon.”

“But… I don’t know how to disillusion myself, or summon fake gold,” Harry answered desperately.

“I could teach you,” the stranger replied simply.

Harry paused. “At what cost?” He asked warily.

The young man canted his head once more and Harry got the distinct impression he was amused, despite not being able to see the person’s expression.

“I just ask that you take me with you,” the young man replied. He reached forward to the tiara and shrunk it down to only a fraction of its original size. “If you bring this with you, I can help you in the tournament. I can lend you knowledge, power, strength.”

Harry considered the offer. That line sounded familiar, though where he heard it, his tired mind couldn’t recall. “You won’t hurt me, will you?”

The young man laughed. “No Harry, I won’t hurt you. After all, I think we have quite a lot in common.” Steel grey eyes flickered to Harry’s forehead; Harry was too tired to bother considering why.

“Alright,” Harry said, holding out his hand for the now minuscule crown.

The young man reached forward, his hands once more passing through the beam of moonlight. Harry watched with wide eyes as that impossibly pale hand stretched out to him, nails black and fingers long and lithe, and wondered if he was making a terrible mistake.

To Harry’s surprise, instead of placing the crown in Harry’s palm, the young man turned Harry’s hand over and slipped the crown onto Harry’s ring finger. It pressed over his knuckles and settled at the top of his finger, metal cool and jewels glimmering in the moonlight.

“That looks like an engagement ring,” Harry said, wrinkling his nose.

The young man laughed. It was deep and cool, but genuine. It sent shivers down Harry’s spine. “We’ll call it a promise ring, hm? You promise to protect me, I promise to protect you.”

“You’ll protect me? You promise?” Harry clarified, eyes narrowed and guarded.

“I promise, Harry,” the young man replied, lacing their fingers. “I take care of my friends. And I have the feeling we’re going to be the _best_ of friends. That is, if you don’t mind having an invisible friend others cannot see.”

Harry looked at the stranger dripped in shadows just over a foot away. It felt… Nice. Having someone promise him. To be there. To protect him. Sirius had, but Sirius was on the run; he couldn’t truly protect Harry. And the stranger had seen everything in Harry’s life and he wasn’t running away. Even Ron ran away, his best mate. A surge of warm feelings tingled through Harry’s gut, spreading out to his limbs. As if responding to his emotions, the image of the young man shimmered, grew stronger.

“Alright,” Harry breathed. “I promise to protect you too,” he vowed. After all, best friends should always have one another’s back. The incident with Ron only proved that.

The air above their laced hands shimmered, a web of golden light lacing through the fabric of space and weaving over their wrists, sinking into their skin. Magic affirming the promise made.

The young man’s image flickered and then suddenly he wasn’t in shadows any more, he was abruptly visible despite not having moved into the moonlight. Aristocratic brow, high cheekbones, a sharp nose. Combed black hair and wickedly glinting grey eyes. He was a couple years older than Harry and wearing Slytherin robes, but Harry didn’t know him.

Harry felt a flicker of recognition _\- a chamber? -_ but the memory faded away, as if from a dream a long time ago, slipping through his fingers like smoke.

“Hello, Harry Potter. You can call me Tom,” the stranger said.

“Hi Tom,” Harry breathed, amazed at his luck. He’d met a guide to help him through the tournament. A new best friend. A friend who gave him a friendship promise ring. And a real magical promise to be his protector.

Tom’s lips twisted into a smile, eyes glimmering in the moonlight, and Harry smiled shyly back.


End file.
